


Hand We've Been Dealt

by 17mosorio



Category: One Direction (Band), Zayn Malik (Musician)
Genre: 1d, And in love, Depression, Implied Zayn Malik/Liam Payne, Liam Payne - Freeform, M/M, One Shot, Zayn Malik - Freeform, Ziam Oneshot, mention of zayn leaving the band, modest!Zayn, one direction - Freeform, they're gay, zayn has a breakdown, ziam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-12
Updated: 2016-09-12
Packaged: 2018-08-14 15:50:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8019913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/17mosorio/pseuds/17mosorio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How many minutes, seconds had he spent being someone he wasn’t?</p>
<p>Well, 11,563,200 minutes. Or, to be technical, 693,792,000 seconds in total.</p>
<p>And that was long enough to lose who he really was.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hand We've Been Dealt

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, if you're reading this. So this is the first Ziam fic I've ever written, it's just a oneshot. I'd like to know what you think, so please leave some feedback, I'd really appreciate it!

 

 

Zayn awoke abruptly on his 22nd birthday with a strong aspiration.

No longer would he follow every one else’s orders and rules.  Zain Javvad Malik was going to be the person he wanted to be, without any regard to the opinions of those surrounding him.  Too long had he taken orders, too many times had he been told no, you can’t do that, it’s not good for your image.  22 fucking years.  264 months. 1,232 weeks. 8,030 days or 192,720 hours. How many minutes, seconds had he spent being someone he wasn’t?

 

Well, 11,563,200 minutes. Or, to be technical, 693,792,000 seconds in total.

 

And that was long enough to lose who he really was.  Zayn desperately wanted to break free from his captivity—but where was he to flee to if not to himself? After all, how could you go somewhere you had never been without directions?

 

First and foremost, he would have to stand up to his management.  And at the risk of losing his job, it wouldn’t be without high stakes.  It wasn’t like he was afraid to do it.  Okay… maybe he was a little scared.  Maybe… maybe a lot scared.  But what else could he do?  Continue to be a show puppet until he aged out of the limelight? 

 

Too many questions—far too many.  A break.

 

He would take a break to figure it all out.

 

Most importantly, Zayn had to figure out how to confess his love.  A letter, that would be nice.  Cheesy, but nice.  A text message, well, that would be impersonal.  In person?  Could he do it in person?

 

No.  Zayn was the least confrontational person on the Earth, or if not, close to it.  

 

Besides, what if it was unrequited?

 

Then all of his efforts was turn to dust.  A then? What, go back to manufactured, coached and primed Modest!Zayn?  He couldn’t be who they wanted him to be anymore.  It felt dishonest.

 

The fans, they would be disappointed.  They’ll get over it though.  Zayn had serious doubts that he wouldn’t hurt them.  But… they would move on.  Boy bands couldn’t have that big of an impact on a single person’s life.  _Of course not._

 

As the thought crossed his mind, Zayn scolded himself.

_That was selfish._   These were the ones who had given him his wildest dreams, his livelihood, even his family’s.  The thought of putting them second to himself was callous, he reminded himself, gazing nervously out the window.

 

But he could do this.  It would have to be done carefully, slowly.  He had to be cautious and spare as many feelings as he possibly could.

 

 

So, Zayn was faced with a choice;

would he be who _they_ wanted him to be, and let himself down, or would he be who _he_ wanted to be and let the **entire world down**?

 

__________________

 

 

 

Pacing nervously across his hardwood bedroom floor, absentmindedly running his hand through his hair, Zayn thought hard about what he would say to him.  A very strong feeling had grown in his heart, an unshakeable idea had rooted itself deeply in his thoughts over these past few years; that of himself and Liam Payne.  Zayn Malik was unquestionably and irrefutably infatuated with this man.  There were no other words to describe it.  

 

So then, the question he must ask himself is; how can Zayn tell Liam his most sheltered secret?

 

“Fuck it,” he whispered, dialing the phone number of his bandmate—which was #1 on his speed dial.

 

One ring.  Two rings.  Three ri—

 

“Zayn? You alright?” Liam’s voice sprung to life on the other end.

 

“Uh, Li, I uh… I need… fuck,” he grumbled under his breath.  “Come on then, come on,” he said to himself, pulling the phone away from his face for a moment.  “I have to tell you something, Leeyum.”

 

“Yeah?  What’ll it be then?” he said, as normal as ever.  He had no idea what was coming.

 

“I think—I, uh.  Love you.”  It was quick, so quick in fact, that Liam had missed it.

 

“Sorry? What was that?”

 

Zayn cursed himself and sighed deeply before continuing.

 

“Liam.”

 

“Zayn, spit it out.  I hate to rush you, but I’ve got a date with… with… bloody hell, who’ve I got a date with?” he asked, voice fading as he pulled away to ask.  “Well, someone.  I’ve got a date with some lucky lady,” he said with a chuckle.

 

Zayn felt it.  Slowly at first, then all at once.

 

“Zayn? You there, bud?”

 

It was excruciating—pain and numbness all at the same time.  Fire, ice, and novocaine.

 

“Hello?” Liam called again.

 

“I, uh, I have to go.  Sorry to keep you from your date,” Zayn spoke numbly.

 

“Wait, Zayn what di—“

 

He hung up without a second thought, completely silent.

 

This was the quiet before the storm predictably, as it was only after a few deafeningly quiet moments later that Zayn began screaming and crying and cursing Allah and whatever powers in the universe that may be.

 

He didn’t want this anymore.  This feeling—disappointment, emptiness.  He was tired and restless, and so so over what his life had become.  How had he let this happen?

 

He should’ve told him.  How idiotic of Zayn to wait so long before confessing his feelings to Liam.  _No_ , Zayn thought.  _No_ , he should’ve never gotten his feelings involved with Liam in the first place.  He could’ve avoided this damned frustration.

 

It was all his fault.  And there was nothing he could do.  There was absolutely no cure for Liam Payne—he’d see his golden eyes in his dreams, and he’d imagine his soft lips pressing against his own while awake.  And forget about moving on… his face is everywhere he looks, his voice is always playing in the back of Zayn’s head, “Have a good flight home, you.”

 

**_“Have a good flight home, you.”_ **

 

_Yeah.  Fat chance._

 

It was over. His entire life had come to shit, and a bitter taste was left in Zayn’s mouth when he whispered begrudgingly, “ _I wish I’d never gone to that damned audition_.”

 

He wiped his face and clumsily lowered himself onto his floor. 

 

And he stayed there for a week—save the times he got up to use the restroom.

He didn’t eat, he left his room for nothing and for no one.  He slept 14 hours a day.

 

His phone had accumulated hundreds of concerned messages and missed calls.

 

Some from Liam.

 

_No_ , he though, gritting his teeth.  _He doesn’t exist anymore._

 

“Fuck, yes he does! He exists, he exists in all my thoughts and dreams and wishes and wants and he won’t leave my head alone!” Zayn shouted angrily to no one in particular.  Maybe to himself.  Maybe to Allah.  If He even exists.

 

Zayn unlocked his phone and began opening his messages.  Actually, only the ones from Liam.

 

**_12:00 AM Today_ **

**_Zayn, where’ve you been mate? No one can get a hold of you._ **

 

**_6:57 PM Today_ **

**_Z? come on, answer your damn phone_ **

 

**_11:29 PM Today_ **

**_Zayn dont make me call the police and report youve gone missing_ **

 

**_11:49 PM, 20 Minutes Ago_ **

**_Im on my way to your flat.  you'd best be there zayn_ **

 

Shit.  This was the worst moment of his existence, he was sure.  There was no way he could face Liam without making a fool of himself.

 

Sixty seconds later, Zayn received another text.

 

**_12:10 AM, Just Now_ **

**_Im on my way up.  Why haven’t you moved your emergency key from under the mat? Ive told you loads of times that a potential intruder will look there first. Not very smart, Z_ **

 

Zayn’s sighs echoed in his room.  Here comes Liam Payne, and Zayn Malik can’t take care of himself well enough.  Never good enough for anyone.  No matter what he does, someone is disappointed. 

 

His greasy mop laid flat against his forehead.  He was breaking out and his voice was nearly gone because he has spent 7 days having a loud and emotional strop. Add to the equation his twice-a-day pack of cigarettes, you’ve got the voice from hell.

 

“Zayn,” came Liam’s voice from outside his bedroom door.  Without answering, Zayn ran, tripping not twice, but _three times_ , to the bathroom to at least wash up his face.  

 

“Zayn?” Liam called again, this time more audibly.  He had entered the room.

 

“Yeah,” Zayn’s damaged vocal chords managed. “In here.”

 

Zayn braced himself as Liam approached the bathroom door.  This wouldn’t feel very nice.

 

“Hey you, where have you been these past seven days?” he said bluntly, furrowing his thick brows.  Zayn caught himself staring at Liam’s mouth before finally mumbling something incoherent.

 

“Well?” Liam said expectantly.

 

“Huh?” Zayn mumbled again.

 

“Zayn, what’s going on mate? You aren’t yourself.”

 

“Never was,” he whispered, drying his face and throwing the towel to the bathroom floor.

 

“What?” Liam inquired, taking a seat on Zayn’s unmade bed.

 

“I’ve never been myself, Liam.  I don’t even know who that is,” he answered quietly, still standing in the bathroom.

 

“I know who you are, Zayn.  You’re a good person, creative, attentive.  You’re always there to listen to people talk about their problems.  Let me take a turn.  What’s bothering you?”

 

Zayn turned to face away from Liam as his face distorted in pain.  He could never keep it together when he was asked questions like that.

 

“What isn’t,” he spoke with an unsteady voice.

 

“Zayn? Are you… are you crying?” Liam said, astonished.

Without verbalizing it, Zayn had answered Liam’s question with heartbreaking sobs and tears and cracks in his voice.

 

“Zayn,” Liam said knowingly, quickly getting up and steadying Zayn as he nearly fell to the floor.  “It’s okay.”

 

“No, it’s not okay! It’s never going to be okay, don’t you understand that?” Zayn shot.

 

“Just tell me what’s happening Zayn,” Liam consoled.

 

“No, you’re the last person I want to speak to about this.  You’re the last person in the world I want to speak to about anything! I loathe you.  I detest you.  Get out! Just leave me alone, just go.”  He pulled away from Liam’s arms and ran his hand through his hair.

 

“Zayn… you really should—“

 

“Stop.  Stop telling me what to do!  You don’t even know me!”  he shouted, spit flying from his mouth.

 

“Just let me help you, I can—“

 

“No! Get out!”

 

“Zayn, I just—“

 

“Get the fuck out, Liam.  Leave. Lose my number.  I quit. At all of this.”

 

“Zayn, you can’t just quit, what about the fans—“

 

“The fans will have to fucking deal! I’m tired of living someone else’s life, I’m not going to keep putting everyone else ahead of myself!” He shouted, losing the sentiment he had earlier about selfishness.

 

“Think about this, Zayn.  Please,” Liam said after a moment of quiet.

 

“I’ve thought about it! For weeks! Months! Years! This may come as a surprise to you Liam, but not everyone fits into this cookie cutter shit!  If I have to live like this much longer I’ll—I’ll—Kill myself.  I’ll fucking blow my brains out, Liam.  I can’t,” he faltered.

 

The two boys stood in silence.

 

“I wouldn’t let you do that,” Liam mumbled.

 

“Right, like you care whether I’m around,” Zayn scoffed, biting his lip out of frustration.

 

“How could you say that?” Liam said, clearly offended.

 

“How could I say that? Well, what do you figure?  You don’t give a single damn about me, Liam.  You probably never did.”

 

Before Zayn could comprehend what was even happening, he felt arms around his waist and hot wetness in the nook of his neck.

 

“Liam?”

 

“How could you ever say I don’t care about you? I love you.  Zayn… you’re my best friend.  I wouldn’t be able to live if you weren’t around,” Liam whispered tearfully.

 

Zayn was shellshocked.

 

Had his want for increased companionship with Liam forced him to ignore what was already between them?

 

Friendship… they were best friends.  But it still wasn’t good enough fro Zayn.

 

“I don’t want to be your best friend.”

 

“What?”

 

“I can’t do this, Liam.  I can’t.  Don’t make me say it,” Zayn said, pulling away from Liam once again.

 

“What are you—“ 

 

Before Liam could finish, Zayn had pulled him into another tight embrace.

 

“I love you.  I know you don’t love me back, but don’t tell me that.  Just let me have one moment of peace. Please,” Zayn whispered.

 

“Zayn, I—“

 

“No, sh. Don’t say anything,” He said, tearing up again.

 

“But Zayn—“

 

“Really Liam? Really? You couldn’t shut your mouth for one moment?” Zayn said angrily, pushing him away roughly.

 

“I love you too, Zayn.”

 

“Right, of course you fucking do.  Pity I-love-you’s don’t save lives, Liam.”

 

“I mean it,” Liam said, grinning.

 

“No. You’ve got to be joking,” Zayn said in disbelief.

 

“No, not joking. In fact…”

 

Zayn raised his eyebrows in anticipation.

 

“I think I’ve loved you since the day we first met, at that McDonald’s.  Do you remember, Z?”

 

Zayn smiled as his bottom lip trembled.  All that trouble.  And Liam _loves. Him._ ** _Back._**

 

“Of course, of course, I remember it exactly, Li.  You were wearing a black hoodie and a pair of Levi’s that were way too tight for you,” Zayn reminisced fondly.

 

“Right, exactly.  I can’t remember what you were wearing but—“

 

Zayn rolled his eyes before Liam could continue.

 

“—I’m yanking your chain.  You were wearing a Polo tee and khaki pants.  With a pair of Jordan’s.  Actually, it was quite a terrible outfit, didn’t match at all.”

 

“Wow.  Thanks,” Zayn said sarcastically.  He licked his lips nervously.  “So… now what?”

 

“Now what, what?”

 

“Liam.  Come on, you know.  What do we do?  We could never be together.  Realistically.  Either we’re together and the band declines or we keep this a secret and have to act like we’re nothing more than friends at all times.  It’s a lose-lose situation, Leeyum,” Zayn boosted himself onto the counter of his bathroom sink, leaning his head back agains the large mirror hanging on the wall.

 

“Being with you isn’t losing.”

 

“You know that’s not true,” Zayn whispered sadly.

 

“We have to do something about management.  Maybe we can change their minds about having two boys openly in love.”

 

“Then what, change the world’s mind? Liam, the world hates regular people who are gay, why would we be any different? I’m already disliked enough as it is because I’m Pakistani.  And Muslim.  Christ,” he murmured, running his fingers through his hair again.  “The entire world will hate me.  I’ll get assassinated or something,” he perturbed.

 

“Don’t say that.  You won’t get assassinated.  How could anyone hate you?  You’re perfect.  I can’t imagine someone hating anyone that much, much less you,” Liam said, resting his hand on Zayn’s knee.

 

“Liam, you don’t understand. You couldn’t.  I get death threats every single day because of the color of my skin and the God I pray to.  There’s a reason I’m the least liked member of the group, and you lot know it.”

 

“You’re right.  I’m sorry, Zayn.”

 

“S’alright, Liam, it’s not your fault.  I guess the world just doesn’t want to see us together.  Too many damn things in the way.”

 

Another moment of silence passed between them.

 

“I didn’t know you were gay,” Zayn thought aloud.

 

“Really?  You really had no idea?”

 

“You always had a girl on your arm, I figured you were a ladies’ man…” Zayn trailed off.

 

“Coming from you? Women worship you,” Liam chortled.

 

“Yeah, like, I know, but like, look at me.  I’m… very… gay-looking.”

 

“Gay-looking? Zayn, that’s not really even a thing.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Of course it isn’t.  You’re just beautiful.  Not ‘gay-looking’…Huh.  ‘Gay-looking.’ What a phrase. You’re just pretty.”

 

“You think I’m pretty?” Zayn threw his head back with a snicker and placed his hand over Liam’s.

 

“Well, yeah.  Don’t you?”

 

“Ah.  I don’t know,” Zayn said bashfully.

 

_Liam thinks I’m pretty?_

 

“Well, you are.  Now what are we going to do? About.. all this?” Liam continued, gesturing between himself and Zayn.

 

“We can’t do anything.  It just is what it is.  We’re gay.  Once the band breaks up… or we get too old to continue… maybe we’d have a chance to work something out.  Unless Modest renews our contract for a 50 year cycle,” he joked lightheartedly.

 

“We’re really going to ignore what just happened?”

 

“What choice do we have, Liam?”

 

“What if we ran away?” Liam suggested.

 

“We couldn’t do that to the fans.”

 

“What about the fans having to ‘deal?’”

 

“I was angry.  I didn’t mean that.  They deserve the world, you know that that, Liam.”

 

“They do,” he agreed.  “But what about us? What do we deserve?”

 

“Hell, if I know,” Zayn retorted.  “I guess we’re lucky enough. Let’s just be happy we’re able to afford to take care of our families and that we don’t live in a war zone.  We might as well be grateful because you know if we ever complained that’s what we’d be told straight away.”

 

“True. It’ll be hard to ignore this though.  Now that I know you feel the same, how am I supposed to go on dating people I have zero interest in?”

 

“I don’t have all the answers Liam.  We just have to play the hand we've been dealt sometimes, you know.”

 

“Yeah.  Yeah, I know.”

 


End file.
